Payback Read Online Free Page B

hat. ‘Not true,’ he objected. ‘I distinctly remember engaging it once when mounting the kerb. To park near Harrods.’
    ‘ Sure,’ Barton laughed, running in with him out of the snow. ‘But I keep telling you to dump that American heap. Buy a real car, like a Range Rover. A better car. An English car.’
    ‘ English? Rover’s about as English now as Gandhi!’
    They continued their usual sparring as Tom took off his coat and they made their way to the study. Maddie was standing by the fire, arm resting on the mantel. If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted to striking a pose for him, Lady Hamilton-like. And to dressing for him that day, as she had so many others. She had never been unfaithful, and never expected to be, but the handsome, cultivated, Ivy League fellow American was so much nearer her ideal than James could ever be.
    Tom had more than an inkling of all this, but had the manners—and the good business-sense—not to take advantage of it. ‘Maddie. You look a picture. As ever,’ he smiled, and walked over to her.
    His social kiss left the old-fashioned, masculine scent of him around her. It always made her blush slightly at the thought that he might somehow read her mind. She liked her men to smell of shaving cream. James, in contrast, used an electric razor, to save precious time. ‘Goodness. Your face is as cold as ice,’ she said, holding his eyes a second or two longer than necessary. ‘Let me fix you a drink. The usual?’
    Having mixed his Jack Daniel’s, she left them talking to fuss over lunch and check that Nanny had the twins ready. Tom watched her go. ‘You know, it’s like Robert Adam also designed Maddie to blend right in here, alongside all his architecture, finishings, carpets and the rest. Absolute class.’
    ‘ And I don’t blend? She’s the cuckoo here, not me.’
    Tom laughed at him. He was one of the very few people who could, and the only person able to speak his mind to the bully, and still escape his legendary rages. ‘Well, there you are again. Mr Paranoid! How are we today? You English bankrupts are too damn sensitive. In the States, surviving Chapter Eleven is admired. Guys put it on their CVs.’
    Barton spat out an expletive. The scandal was still a festering open wound with him, and a taboo subject within his earshot. ‘Why is it I take this from you? If anyone else spoke to me like that—’
    ‘ It’s my boyish charm. And because you pay too much to ignore me. You chose me as a big ticket superstar advisor. So if you don’t listen to me, ergo, you’re criticising your own judgement. And you’re never wrong. Right?’
    ‘ There’s such a thing as being too damned bright,’ Barton said, with an edge.
    ‘ Negative. I don’t buy that. And nor do you. There is such a thing as being a pain in the smart ass, though. That’s one of my faults. But someone has to knock that chip off your shoulder. It’s no big deal to have gone under financially. Happens every day. Get over it. Get out of denial. All I meant was that Maddie has a timeless beauty. Like this desk, or that vase. I’ve called you many things in my day, but beautiful isn’t one of them.’
    Somewhat mollified, Barton waved to him to sit down.
    Tom, now thirty, had been the youngest ever partner with World Management Consulting Inc., the firm which, alongside McInsey, ranked as undisputed leaders in international business counselling. When, as the New York-based consultancy’s brightest star, he had been seconded to the European head office in London six years earlier, Barton had negotiated the equivalent of a day a week of his time on an on-going basis. The two had first met two years before this in France when Barton, climbing the political ladder as a PPS to the Chancellor, had given a guest lecture on entrepreneurship at INSEAD. Tom, on a post-grad course there, made it his business to get to know him that night over dinner. Afterwards back in the States he had